


Age of the Wolf

by Melodious329



Category: Leverage
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-19
Updated: 2011-04-19
Packaged: 2017-10-18 09:06:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/187260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melodious329/pseuds/Melodious329
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Eliot gets really sick after a job, Nate doesn't know whether he's losing his mind or not, and he doesn't know how it's going to affect the con.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Age of the Wolf

**Author's Note:**

> Begins during the Gone Fishin' Job in Season Three
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own, don't sue

“Alright, you’re ready then,” Eliot says, slapping Hardison’s shoulder as he stands up. He knows Hardison’s scared, but he’s also young and naïve, and deep-down he believes that everything is going to be ok. And most of all Hardison doesn’t know how it feels to really get dirty, to physically hurt others on purpose, to kill, even accidentally, even the bad guy, even to save a hundred or a thousand others.

But Hardison’s determined. Eliot can just barely remember that kind of determination, before he learned that the mission was all important. And nowadays the mission for Eliot is keeping the team safe.

Squaring his shoulders, Eliot takes a step into the underbrush, time to get this thing started, but as soon as he puts his foot down he can sense it, something different in the air, the stillness of a predator about to strike. He just has time to raise his right arm, his forearm shielding his face before he feels the snap of powerful jaws, fangs digging into the muscle.

But Eliot’s already moving, the momentum of the attack propelling him backwards. He’s not falling though, Eliot rolls, kicking the animal off of him before he continues rolling over his shoulder to his feet, body crouched and ready for another attack.

The animal, what Eliot now realizes was a wolf has run off now, though. The only thing to worry about is the way Hardison is freaking out.

Standing, Hardison is waving his arms and yelling, “Whoa! Who-oa! Man, what was that?!”

“Shut up,” Eliot snaps, his face scrunching in displeasure as he listens to the racket. “Did you forget there are men with guns in these woods?” he harshly whispers.

“But there are things in these woods, worse things than men with guns, man. Animals!” Hardison proclaims.

Rolling his eyes heavenward, Eliot splits his attention between continuing to glare at Hardison and checking out the wound in his arm, blood flowing steadily down to his hand. Growling in frustration, he starts to unbutton his flannel overshirt, stripping down to his dark tank. “Look, the animals aren’t out to get you. I startled it…”

“You startled it?” Hardison screeches.

“Yes, it was just defending itself from what it saw as a threat.” Taking a deep breath, Eliot tears his shirt apart, wrapping a strip around the bleeding wound. He liked that shirt, it was old enough to be really comfortable. “We already missed the train. You wanted to do this and we’re doing it.”

Hardison finally quiets, apparently remembering what it is they’re doing out here, or maybe just calming because Eliot’s covering up the blood. Fortunately, Eliot flexes his hand and it’s still fully functional, the wound not bad just bloody.

When he straightens again, Hardison appears calm and resolved again, looking him in the eye. “Let’s do this.”

***

Nate’s on the couch when Eliot comes back from playing video games with Hardison. He’s not entirely sure why Eliot agreed to that, something about fishing but Nate’s learned not to ask if it’s not necessary.

His bewilderment is only augmented when Eliot raises his injured right arm, wrapped now in white bandages, to rub at his forehead.

“Headache?” Nate asks.

Eliot shoots him a glare but it’s more weary than angry. Nate can’t help but chuckle thinking how laborious being around Hardison’s energy can be, particularly when talking about or doing anything with computers or games.

Eliot can’t explain it himself, why going fishing with Hardison is such a big deal. Maybe he’s just grabbing onto any chance to pass on the skills his grandfather taught him, maybe it’s because Hardison has the best chance at being normal of all of them. Whatever the reason, he ignores Nate’s laughter and goes into the kitchen for a glass of ice water. He took a shower earlier, after the con, but he feels like he’s sweating. He had to take the hat off half-way through the game and now he runs a hand through sweaty hair.

The wound’s clean though, not swelling or anything so it’s probably just a regular ol’ cold or something. That’s just his luck. He can add that to his previous injuries and being thrown by a bomb today. But Eliot only complains about their schedule in front of the team, he never asks for a break as Nate’s lover.

Nate watches Eliot start up the stairs with growing concern. It’s not that Eliot never goes to bed early because of injuries but Nate didn’t think he was that injured. There’s a difference between Eliot being injured and wanting time off the job to be at his best and Eliot being so injured that he’s actually down. Nate prides himself on being able to know just how far to push his team and the mystery of Eliot’s illness bothers him. He’s never seen Eliot sick before, doesn’t know if Eliot will need time off because of it.

They don’t have a typical relationship, and Nate would never use the word love, not after Maggie and Sophie and everything, but they do have affection and care, and lust. In their own way they take care of each outside of the con without trying to change each other. It’s not that Nate doesn’t care that Eliot’s hurt, but he’s also the team’s leader, and he wouldn’t disrespect Eliot by trying to shield his lover. Eliot is their hitter, and he gets hit.

It’s just before midnight when Nate decides to go upstairs himself, only partly because he wants to check on Eliot. He’s certainly not prepared for what he finds up there though.

Eliot has let the book and his glasses fall to the floor as he’s currently curled into himself on his side, his face and dark hair only barely visible amidst his curled limbs and piled covers. He’s sweating and panting despite that the window is open to the crisp fall air.

The fear freezes Nate tight, he can’t move, can’t think, all he sees is Eliot and pain and Sam…

Nate gasps as he breaks free, taking first one step and then running over to Eliot’s side. “Eliot? Eliot, what’s wrong?”

Maybe it’s a stupid question but he’s always trusted Eliot to be straight about his injuries.

“Just a f-fever,” Eliot mumbles before biting his lip again. It feels like the worst flu ever, going beyond achy all over, he feels like his inner organs hurt. He hasn’t been exposed to anything more sinister though.

Nate takes another look at the pain written all over Eliot and calls bullshit. “This is not just a fucking fever, Eliot. Is your arm infected?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, just reaches inside the blankets and grabs Eliot’s bandaged arm, pulling it out into the air and beginning to unwrap it.

The white wrap falls away, leaving Nate staring at Eliot’s arm, mystified at what he’s not seeing, no redness, no heat, no swelling or pus, nothing but a bite mark carefully stitched.

He’s still staring when Eliot suddenly pulls his arm back into his body, a low pain-filled moan escaping.

“Fuck, I’m calling-calling 911,” Nate says, scrambling at his pockets since they didn’t bother with a landline, only to realize he left his phone downstairs not wanting to be disturbed since no one has the number but the team. And Maggie who will never use it.

“Hold on, hold on,” Nate says, wondering whether it’s for Eliot’s benefit or his own. Clambering downstairs, the words that run through his mind are ‘don’t think about it, don’t think about it, don’t think about what could happen to Eliot’.

He’s racing back upstairs and trying to work the phone at the same time which completely doesn’t work, he doesn’t manage to even get the phone open by the time he’s upstairs, desperate to see Eliot again with his eyes, see that he’s ok, alive still.

Except when he sets eyes on the bed again, there’s a dog on it…no, a wolf, grey and white, snuffling at the pillows and kicking his legs out a little. What the…

The wolf gets up and Nate takes a single step back before he stills, thinking that he shouldn’t run, not that there’s anywhere to run to. But the wolf only looks back at him with eyes that are crystal blue, just like…just like Eliot’s. Except only wolf cubs have blue eyes.

It doesn’t look like a cub though and it doesn’t look like a husky, but maybe it’s a hybrid, Nate’s mind is going a million miles a minute with useless information as the wolf then simply gets off the bed and goes over to the open window, jumping through it and onto the fire escape.

Nate’s first inclination is to breathe a sigh of relief, except that he then realizes that the wolf was where Eliot was, and now Eliot’s gone, Eliot who was sick and in pain, who couldn’t have gotten up and walked away. Stupidly Nate goes to the open window, checking down the fire escape just in case, but there’s no sign of Eliot or the wolf.

Either Eliot has some major explaining to do or Nate’s going crazy, and Nate doesn’t even know which one to hope for. For all he knows Eliot’s dead and Nate just couldn’t handle it.

On automatic, Nate moves over to the dresser where he keeps an extra bottle of Jameson. If there was ever a time to drink, this is it.

***

Nate wakes up on the floor, but at least he has a pillow and a blanket. Even drunk he couldn’t make himself get in that bed.

Having slept on the floor definitely doesn’t make his hangover feel any better. His head feels like someone ran over it with a golf cart, not to mention his stiff neck and back.

Sitting up makes his stomach roll ominously but at least being a drunk means he’s had plenty of practice at suppressing the vomit reflex. Not that it always works, but he’s practiced. He has to lean on the bed to get to his feet and the short hairs there assure him that it wasn’t a dream, white and grey hairs standing out against Nate’s cream-colored sheets.

His next move is to the still open window. He doesn’t know exactly what he’s looking for as he scans the street below, but he almost misses Eliot, a human, sleeping naked on the fire escape.

“Eliot!” he shouts before he’s climbing out the window himself, his muscles protesting the contorting it takes to get out there. Nate slaps Eliot’s stubbled cheek sharply, frightened at the way Eliot’s body is curled into itself just the way he was last night.

Eliot stirs slowly, with a groan and a little stretch despite Nate desperately trying to pull the younger man up to sitting.

“Eliot? Eliot, are you ok?” Nate questions, one hand turning Eliot’s face towards him.

“Yeah,” Eliot finally responds, sleepy and relaxed. He can smell Nate, can smell the alcohol all over Nate too, but after being the wolf it doesn’t seem as strange, the differences in his hearing, smell, and sight.

Nate pulls Eliot into a fierce hug, pressing his face into Eliot’s neck to hide his emotions, one hand gripping the back of Eliot’s head as if Eliot is a child. “Jesus, I thought…” Nate swallows hard, swallowing all those words, the fear of losing Eliot. “I don’t understand.”

Eliot returns the hug affectionately, enjoying being close to Nate now. He feels good, relaxed in a way he isn’t normally. He likes the way Nate smells. “I was the wolf. I remember…” He breaks off with a sigh, he can’t describe it, can’t put it into human words.

Nate shakes his head, it’s not possible, not logical. But as the fog of sheer relief clears from his mind, he focuses on what he can fix. He needs to wake Eliot up, clean Eliot up, check that bite wound again.

“Let’s get inside,” Nate gets out. Reluctantly, Eliot’s face emerges from Nate’s neck, looking around like he’s seeing things clearer. Drugs, they could have been drugged, Nate thinks.

Eliot stands up himself, looking around to see if anyone’s out this early to notice he’s naked on a fire escape as he waits for Nate to enter the window first. As soon as he’s in Nate is right next to him, demanding to see his arm, needing to know exactly what he’s dealing with as usual.

“It’s fine,” Eliot says characteristically. The wound is dirty but still has no sign of infection. But Nate’s frazzled, irritated that he can’t blame everything on an infection. Eliot watches as Nate lifts his hand to his forehead momentarily.

“Go take a shower,” Nate orders, his fear and anxiety has him turning into the team’s mastermind instead of Eliot’s lover.

But Eliot knows it’s just Nate’s way and he easily walks over to the bathroom. He certainly needs a shower anyway, and the hot water feels perfect for his still sore muscles. He washes the wound first to satisfy his anal lover when Nate comes in and brushes the alcohol out of his mouth, then busies himself.

First Nate heads downstairs to get some water and pain killers. He didn’t ask if Eliot needed any, but it can’t hurt after last night. Back upstairs though, he has to strip the sheets off the bed, has to get rid of those hairs, hairs that are still there, taunting him. If it were drugs, would he still be seeing those hairs?

Eliot’s just finished washing his hair when he’s distracted, listening. He listens to Nate moving around, the sounds suddenly clear and crisp despite the distance between them, the taps of Nate’s bare feet, the clunk of glasses on the wooden bedside table, the clink of what is probably ibuprofen too, the sound of Nate smoothing out fresh sheets.

The water is preventing him from smelling Nate and suddenly that’s all Eliot can think about, the smell of Nate, being near Nate. He’s moving before he really thinks about, just barely remembers to turn off the water but he doesn’t bother with a towel, opens the bathroom door and steps out soaking wet.

“El…” Nate begins, but he can’t make his tongue move to get the rest of the word out, not with Eliot standing there soaking wet, goosebumps forming on his tan skin in the cooler air.

It doesn’t matter that Nate can’t talk though, because Eliot doesn’t stop to hear as he crosses the room, damp fingers slide immediately to the back of Nate’s neck, palms cradling the bottom half of Nate’s face, pulling their lips together.

It’s not a good time for this, but Nate can’t seem to care with Eliot devouring his mouth, he can only wrap his own arms around Eliot’s small waist, trails of water from long dark hair soaking his shirt sleeve as he pulls their bodies together.

Eliot moans, wild and needy into Nate’s mouth prompting Nate to slide his hands down the slick curves of Eliot’s back, gripping Eliot’s muscular ass to help Eliot rub off against his thigh, water darkening his black slacks.

Eliot’s thick arms have slid around Nate’s shoulders so that they’re tangled up like two teenagers but then Eliot uses his wet body to push Nate down onto the clean bed. He buries his face now in Nate’s scent, the pulse point under his ear, the tip of his chin, while rubbing his ass back on Nate’s clothed cock.

Nate feels like he’s being mauled, Eliot’s hard wet body fully on top of him, rutting into his belly, nuzzling his neck. He manages to get a hand up, pulling Eliot’s wet hair back from the hitter’s face and getting his attention.

Eliot lets himself be rolled over, blown open eyes focused on Nate’s face until Nate sits up and begins to take his wrinkled shirt off. Eliot tries to help, reaching for the button on Nate’s slacks, but as soon as he gets his hand up, Nate’s twisting away, squirming out of his pants, Eliot’s fervor rubbing off on him.

Naked, Nate avoids Eliot’s grasping hands and reaches for the bedside table, grabbing the lube and a condom. He manages to get the lube slopped over his fingers before Eliot pulls him back down, caging him with arms and legs as Nate gropes for Eliot’s entrance with slick fingers.

With effort, Nate pushes two fingers in. It’s enough for Eliot to still, throwing his head back on the bed with a needy groan. The prep is cursory before Nate is rolling the condom on his own neglected dick and pushing in.

Nate’s body slides along Eliot’s as he thrusts, Eliot’s thighs forced wide, his ankles hooked behind Nate’s asscheeks. Eliot’s pulling him in, harder and harder, one calloused hand snaking to the back of Nate’s head to keep Nate’s mouth on his neck. They’re crushed together as Nate reaches for Eliot’s left hand, entwining their fingers.

It doesn’t take long for either of them, they’re too worked up, too much friction on Eliot’s cock against Nate’s belly that has him shaking underneath Nate even as the older man thrusts harder, faster, biting down on skin now slick with sweat as he stiffens.

Neither moves to separate afterwards. Nate moves only to pull out, throwing the condom in the nearby trashcan, lying on top of his lover and he throws it into the nearby trashcan. It’s comfortable but after the previous night, there’s also a tinge of desperation in Nate’s embrace.

He’s gently carding his fingers through damp hair now softly curling when Eliot goes stiff. Nate lifts his head to see Eliot’s face turned toward the light coming in from the window, eyes gone soft and distant.

“Hardison…” Eliot murmurs. “He’s walking into the bar downstairs.”

Surprised, Nate looks to the still open window. There’s no way Eliot could hear footsteps from here.

“Eliot,” Nate starts, moving away, but he doesn’t need to say anything else for the disapproval to come across loud and clear.

Frustrated, Eliot sits up, dislodging Nate the rest of the way. He doesn’t want to fight about something he barely understands and Nate refuses to acknowledge. He’ll figure it out by himself.

Eliot hears the elevator start up. “We should get cleaned up,” he says, standing and going to the bathroom. He’s brushing his teeth when Nate comes in to get into the shower.

 

***

Hardison’s already has his computer open on the counter by the time Eliot’s heading down the stairs, but they both are walking straight for the kitchen refrigerator at the same time.

Eliot growls as Hardison reaches the door first, his lanky body filling the entire space. “Hardison, move,” Eliot prompts as the hacker takes his time perusing the contents.

“Chill, chi-ill,” Hardison says, backing away with his prize, a giant orange bottle.

As soon as Eliot gets his chance at the fridge he hears another person breathing. It doesn’t surprise him when he hears Parker ask, “Whatcha making?”

“Omelettes,” Eliot answers simply without looking at her.

“Oh,” Parker sighs, obviously disappointed. Eliot knows that she’ll want cereal instead and reaches for the gallon of milk.

They all jump as the gallon hits the drawer above it, like the jug wasn’t as full as Eliot thought, but it’s a full gallon, Eliot just bought it himself. It’s like he underestimated his own strength.

Eliot is jerked out of his thoughts by Hardison’s loud voice, “Whoa. Dude. Do not take out your frustrations on the refrigerator. We…need stuff in there.”

Scoffing Eliot puts the milk on the counter and gets out Parker’s cereal and a bowl and spoon. But Hardison isn’t finished talking as usual.

“Things aren’t smooth between you and Nate? Where is Nate?”

The smell of Sophie’s perfume arrives before Eliot hears the distinct clicks of Sophie’s heels coming towards the front door of the apartment, and he hurriedly tells Hardison to shut up. He certainly doesn’t tell any of them about his relationship with Nate, but Eliot feels uncomfortable even mentioning it around Sophie. He never wants to hurt her like that, no matter how cool things seem between her and Nate.

Nate comes downstairs just as Sophie is coming in the front door. Eliot meets Nate’s eyes but only for a second before he turns back, pulling out the eggs this time.

Sophie is heading straight for Nate, but Nate’s attention is still on the goings on of the kitchen.

“Hey, man…make me one?” Hardison asks, hesitantly.

“Fine,” Eliot growls. “You need to learn to feed yourself. You want to be the mastermind but you’re gonna die of a heart attack from fast food at thirty-five…”

Eliot continues to snarl, but Nate can clearly see that Hardison doesn’t register any words past Eliot’s agreement, the hacker grinning like he just got one over on Eliot.

“Sophie, would you like an omelette,” Eliot offers, his voice more polite when speaking to her.

She declines. Eliot doesn’t ask Nate if he’d like one, but Nate knows that Eliot will make one for him anyway.

“Hey, we got a job?” Hardison speaks up again.

“Uhhh, no,” Nate replies, off guard. It’s not just because of what happened with Eliot last night. Nate pushes the team but he tries not to push too far until it’s necessary and they do need a break. But he sees the way Eliot’s back goes rigid, the pause in the chopping of spinach. They’re not the best at talking about things, trying too hard to keep them separate from the team and the jobs.

Eliot goes back to chopping. He knows he needs to figure this out before he goes back on jobs and he’s actually glad that Nate is giving him a little time for that. Even if Nate doesn’t want to understand.

He serves Hardison first. Turning back around to hide his smile as Parker snatches the hacker’s fork to try a few bites despite her earlier disdain for the menu option. Nate’s next, eating and half-listening to Sophie go on about the Italian.

Eliot’s caught up in his own thoughts, thinking about what he should do, how he should test whatever’s happened to him. Is he a werewolf? A shapeshifter? A shaman once told him the wolf was his spirit animal, his guide. Is that what this is? A message?

He’s so busy with his thoughts, he burns his own omelette. Cursing, he slides it onto a plate, resigned to eating it anyway. When he turns around though, it’s clear everyone else is ready to move on. Hardison and Parker are already heading to the door with a “See ya!”

Nate’s finished too, standing up as Eliot sits down. Sophie wants him to go see something and he does owe her, many times over at this point. He can’t help but be concerned as he looks at Eliot’s plate though. Eliot never burns food.

“Look, we’ll talk later,” Nate offers, grabbing his coat. Eliot seems unconcerned though, waving him off with his fork as he’s chewing.

As soon as Nate’s out the door though, Eliot puts down his fork. The one thing he knows about werewolves is their supposedly deadly reaction to silver. It might be total bullshit and won’t exactly confirm whether or not he’s a werewolf, but knowing if he’s going to fall apart on a job by cutting himself with the silverware is an important thing to know.

Nate has a silver letter opener. Eliot doesn’t feel anything as he picks it up so that’s a good sign. He hesitates for a moment wondering what he should cut. Nate will notice his hand and one of his arms is still healing from a cut. He needs a fairly deep wound to really know if it’ll affect him.

Determined, he climbs back up the stairs, heading to the master bath.

Nate doesn’t make it all the way to the car before he’s apologizing to Sophie. He doesn’t tell her that it’s because he’s worried about Eliot, but apparently she can read it all over his face.

“Is Eliot ok?” she asks, diplomatically.

“Huh?” Nate responds to give himself a moment to think. None of what happened last night is ok, but he’s certainly not about to tell anyone that Eliot thinks he turned into a wolf last night. “Yeah, just…he needs to rest his shoulder and he won’t unless someone’s watching him.”

Nate meant it to sound like he was just looking out for the team by keeping their hitter healthy, but after the words are out, they sound intimate. He’s watching over Eliot, he’s needed by Eliot.

He opens his mouth again, but he doesn’t have a clue what to say that won’t dig the hole deeper. But Sophie just gets a soft look on her face and says, “Go to him.” Then she’s walking off, making her usual stunning exit.

Back in Nate’s bathroom, Eliot has stripped off his clothes again having decided on the meat of his thigh. Climbing into the bathtub, he places the letter opener carefully and then takes a deep breath, holding it as he cuts deeply into his flesh.

It hurts, of course it does, but it doesn’t hurt more than getting stabbed normally does. Eliot shifts his weight from side to side, the blood running down his leg in rivulets as he waits for any abnormal reaction. He’s still waiting when he hears the door open downstairs, Nate’s distinct footsteps entering the apartment.

Eliot’s immediate thought is that he shouldn’t have closed the bathroom door or the window in the bedroom so that he could have heard Nate outside. But there’s nothing to be done now, he can’t get himself cleaned up before Nate makes it upstairs.

When Nate opens the shut bathroom door, shock doesn’t begin to cover how he feels at seeing Eliot bloody and holding a knife.

Rushing forward, Nate knocks the knife out of Eliot’s hand before pulling the younger man in a hug. “Eliot,” Nate’s voice is as close to a sob as Eliot has ever heard. “We’ll figure this out, ok? You don’t…”

The meaning of Nate’s words finally dawn on Eliot as he lets Nate hold him close. The outburst is oddly touching and Eliot can’t resist leaning a little more on his lover, turning his nose into Nate’s scent, stronger without so much alcohol.

“I wasn’t…trying to kill myself,” Eliot says slowly.

Nate pulls back but not totally away, his hands still on Eliot’s biceps. “Then what were you doing?” Nate snaps.

Eliot looks down on the knife now on the bathtub in the pooling blood. “Silver,” Eliot says.

Nate looks at him blankly for a second but then he’s shaking Eliot as he figures it out. “You’re not a werewolf, Eliot.”

Eliot lets Nate shake him a moment, but then pulls away. “Something happened last night. I had to know if it would affect the jobs.”

Turning away, Eliot turns on the faucet to wash away the blood and ignoring Nate. He grabs the medical kit from the closed toilet lid and sits on the side of the tub to stitch it himself.

Finally collecting himself, Nate responds, “Well now you’ve got a hole in your leg, how’s that going to affect our next job?”

“I’ll handle it,” Eliot growls. He’s over talking about this and just wants to leave, but he can’t walk out still bleeding profusely. He should have done this at his own place.

“That’s not what you said when you were complaining yesterday morning!” Nate raises his voice.

Angry, Eliot slaps a bandage over the hastily stitched wound and stands up, unconcerned that his nakedness might put him at a disadvantage in their fight. He doesn’t want to respond anyway and stonily walks past Nate into the bedroom to get dressed.

“You’re leaving?” Nate asks. “We need to figure this out.”

“Yeah,” Eliot responds pulling his sweatshirt over his shirt. “Well you don’t seem interested in figuring things out. I’m leaving.”

Nate’s angry, but the worry comes back as Eliot walks past him heading downstairs. But he can’t follow. Eliot’s not a child. Unsure what to do with himself, Nate walks downstairs himself, intending to make another pot of coffee with some whiskey for flavor.

Outside, Eliot has to stop for a second. The silver may not have had any effect but something is still different with him, the sights, the sounds…but it’s the smell that seems most different. And not all of the smells of Boston are good. But he can trace the smell of things like bread crumbs someone left behind, fresh bread, hot dogs, the acrid scent of coffee.

He needs to find out if he can change into a wolf again, if he can do it voluntarily or only during the full moon, or if it’ll never happen again. Walking to his bike, he heads to his own place not far away.

In the privacy of his empty loft, Eliot sits cross-legged down on the thick carpet in front of his fireplace. He’s naked again, just in case it works. Meditation isn’t something he practices on a regular basis, but he’s very familiar with the practice and uses many of the techniques to keep his control and focus on jobs or missions. This time he focuses on the wolf, recalling everything he can from the previous night.

***

After an hour Nate’s through waiting. This isn’t just a disagreement between them, this is about the team, and they need to talk about it now. This is nothing like when Sophie left, when Nate couldn’t give up his pride to go to her, because in the back of his mind, Nate believes that Eliot will fall back into line. Eliot would never leave the team, never put Parker and Hardison at risk.

Nate has been to Eliot’s place maybe once before. It’s a nice loft hidden in what appears to be a derelict building. But he does have a key. Eliot admitted that there was no way he could keep them out anyway so it didn’t even matter.

The inside of the loft is eerily quiet and mostly dark, the shades are drawn and only a few lamps are on around the room. But the space is wide open and Nate can’t imagine where Eliot is that he can’t see.

“Eliot?” Nate calls out.

Out of the shadows, Nate hears a growl, more feral than the sound even the human Eliot makes. Nate holds his breath, trying to listen when the wolf comes out into the open, his ears flat, his teeth bared.

Nate wonders if he can get the door open and get out before the wolf is on top of him, but then he wonders if it is Eliot. If Eliot is a wolf, Nate can’t just leave it here. He can’t let it get out this time.

Before Nate has really made a decision, the wolf stops growling and starts whimpering, an almost happy sound, the wolf’s tail and ears popping up as if alert. Nate watches in confusion and amazement as the wolf jumps to the side a little, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, playful instead of aggressive.

When Nate doesn’t move though, the wolf gets down on his belly, crawling forward to Nate, his nose pointing upwards, snuffling like he’s smelling Nate. That’s when Nate gets it, this is Eliot, Eliot being submissive to his pack leader, to Nate.

Nate takes a cautious step forward and the wolf stands again, ears still erect but tail down now, relaxed. The wolf bounces off to the nearest window, scratching the wall below it. It quickly learns it’s not getting out, though, and sits as if frustrated.

The howl startles Nate, sharp and loud, mournful and yearning, like the wolf is trying to call the rest of the pack, the rest of the team. Nate raises a hand to rub over his brow, unable to comprehend that he is babysitting a wolf and it’s not part of a con.

When the wolf howls a second time, Nate surges forward. The damn thing is going to have people beating down the doors any second now and then what’ll he do?

“Eliot,” Nate says sharply to get the wolf’s attention, feeling incredibly stupid even though the wolf responds with mannerisms an awful lot like the human Eliot. “Eliot, stop that.”

The wolf looks rather chastened at the reprimand, the wolfish smile gone. Standing, the animal starts to pace, snuffling at the drawn shades and whimpering in a more pathetic way. The wolf eventually makes its way over to the door, scratching and begging at it to be let out.

“Eliot, you can’t go outside. What if animal control picks you up? What if you hurt someone?” What are they going to do, Nate asks himself. What was Eliot thinking changing into a wolf? He can’t go run around the city like this. Hell, even if they went into the country, Nate would be so worried about some farmer shooting Eliot for being near his cattle. As if Nate doesn’t have enough to worry about with his team.

And Eliot’s probably going to be pissed there are now scratches all over his place. Though really, Eliot’s place is a good environment, the hitter doesn’t leave anything lying around that the wolf can get into, and Eliot’s windows and doors are indestructible.

Nate goes over to the sitting area in front of the fireplace. Eliot doesn’t have a tv, preferring to watch games with the team or at a bar. Nate watches as the wolf wanders around some more, smelling at the kitchen, but he can’t get at any of the knives. Feeling pretty comfortable there’s nothing the wolf can get at, Nate picks up the book lying on the side table, reading it even though it’s not something he would normally choose.

Eventually, the wolf gets bored and comes to lie down on the plush carpet in front of the fireplace as well, resting his face on his paws. Nate wonders whether he should tell Eliot that he’s pretty adorable as a furry animal.

Suddenly the wolf puts his head back up, letting out a long howl. Nate’s about to yell at it, like it really is a pet, when the howl is followed by a loud popping sound. The first pop is followed by another, and the wolf whimpers in pain this time as its body is rearranged. Nate has to close his eyes, cover his face with his hands, unable to think of anything to do to make this easier and unable to just watch. He peeks at an entirely misshapen, half-furred creature as the wolf’s cries turn into Eliot’s all too human high-pitched cries of pain.

He drops the shielding hand when the sounds stop, feeling a coward when he sees Eliot lying spent and naked on the carpet. He’s kneeling by his lover’s side an instant later, helping Eliot as the younger man attempts to get up.

As much as Nate doesn’t want to, he can’t help thinking that this is good to know, good to know if they ever used the wolf that it will leave Eliot exhausted once back in human form. Pushing that thought aside, Nate cradles Eliot to his chest as he tries to get them off the floor.

“C’mon,” Nate murmurs. “Let’s get on the couch.”

It’s a struggle to get there, but then Nate has the younger man curled up against his side, Nate’s deft fingers stroking long hair back from Eliot’s face. It’s…nice in a way. They never just curl together quite like this, they’re guys and all. Eliot’s never this relaxed, not even after sex, and Nate’s never this unafraid of coddling Eliot, this unafraid of giving more than he actually has left to give. They’re both so defined by the losses of their pasts that they’re afraid to be more than casual.

Eventually Eliot stirs though, stretching a little and sighing in Nate’s ear as his strength returns. With effort, Nate releases his grip on the back of Eliot’s neck, allowing Eliot to move away. Eliot’s face is soft, his hair mussed and his body shining with sweat, and Nate can see the mischievous twinkle in blue eyes that says Eliot wants to get fucked.

But Nate’s not falling for it this time. They need to actually talk about this, because it does affect the team, a complication even Nate could never have dreamed of.

“C’mon,” Nate pre-empts his frisky lover. Nate now has the space to stand up and he does, trying not to look at Eliot’s nakedness as he continues. “We should head back to my place before the team wonders where we are. We’ll have a drink, and then talk about things.”

Eliot looks dismayed, ducking his head momentarily so his hair shields his face before he stands up from the couch. Whether it’s because Nate denied him or whether it was the mention of the team, Nate can’t tell, but he tries to just be happy that Eliot does head to the bathroom. Nate doubts many people say no to a naked Eliot and if Eliot had pressed the matter…

He waits while Eliot gets dressed, feeling the earlier intimacy slipping away from them, both donning their emotional armor just like Eliot puts on his clothes.

“Let’s go,” Eliot says gruffly, leading the way to the door. But for a moment, all Nate can think of is Eliot the wolf submissively wanting his pack leader’s attention. Eliot the human probably wants Nate’s attention too, but doesn’t have an easy way to ask for it.

It’s almost awkward as Nate drives them back to his place, awkward not because of the situation, but because for once he wants to reach out but can’t seem to think of how to do so.

The sky is darkening as they make their way towards the downstairs bar. It’s after five and the streets are busy and so is the bar. A group of four guys are also making their way to the bar behind Nate and Eliot.

Nate starts down the stairs immediately, but Eliot stops at the top. The guys behind him have the hairs on the back of Eliot’s neck standing up. They feel nervous, just not right, intruders that have Eliot trapped at the door to his own territory and suddenly Eliot is not letting these guys inside.

It happens in an instant, Eliot’s fist connecting with the first guy’s face so hard everyone around can hear the crunch of bone. He grabs the shirt of the next guy before Nate or any of them have a chance to react, throwing the guy towards the street. A kick catches a third guy in the chest, but the fourth guy runs, abandoning the other man without a backwards glance.

“Eliot!” Nate yells, his voice catching Eliot before the man ran off after the fourth guy. He doesn’t know what’s going on, maybe Eliot recognized these men, but fighting in front of their building isn’t the wisest plan.

Eliot’s panting, still feeling the thrum of adrenaline in his blood, fight or flight resounding in his brain. When Nate grabs his wrist, he doesn’t fight though, not Nate. Rigid, he lets himself be pulled into the bar.

Nate ushers Eliot through the crowd, but not quickly enough as Eliot stops to growl at a man trying to have a stilted conversation with Parker. “Eliot,” Nate says sharply, finally getting Eliot’s full attention. “Get upstairs, now!”

Eliot responds to the order, hanging his head a little as he leaves. Turning back to the bar, Nate’s prepared to smooth over things, but it seems Parker’s suitor ran off and Parker simply flounced over to sit with Hardison in a booth.

Pouting, she says, “Eliot’s in a bad mood. He doesn’t want to hang out with us.”

Feeling like he’s in the middle of a con no one told him about, Nate’s hand drifts to his face like he can rub away the frustration. “Hardison,” he says finally. “Eliot took down some guys outside, I need you to make that go away, give a false description or something and then I want all the information you can find on the guys.”

“Is something going on?” Hardison asks, not unexpectedly. “Is someone after Eliot?”

“Is he ok?” Sophie jumps in as she walks up.

“No, he’s fine,” Nate deflects. “I need to go up and figure out what’s going on, and I need you three to stay down here and deal with this. Ok? And then call me when you’ve got something. Don’t come up.”

The three nod however reluctantly, allowing Nate to make his ways upstairs. He’s barely entered the door when he shouts, “What the hell was that?”

Eliot’s pacing, his hands practically ripping out his hair as he shouts back. “I don’t know, Nate. There was something wrong with those guys. They were dangerous.”

“Do you know them? Do we need to get someone off our trail?” Nate asks, his voice quieting as he begins to analyze the situation.

“No,” Eliot admits hesitantly. “I don’t know them, but they felt…they felt bad, Nate. They were up to something.”

Nate’s shocked into silence for a moment, before he bursts out, “You are not a guard dog, Eliot!”

“I know,” Eliot says miserably as he sits down on the edge of a dining room chair. “I just felt threatened by these guys in my…our bar, and I just reacted.”

It’s quiet for a moment as Nate calms down himself and moves to sit in the seat next to Eliot. He needs more information to work through this.

“Ok, let’s start from the beginning,” Nate says reasonably. “You can…shapeshift?”

Eliot shakes his head. “It’s not just turning into a wolf. I can feel the wolf even as a human, in my sight and smell, hearing. I’d bet I’m stronger and faster too.”

“Well that doesn’t sound bad,” Nate says lightly.

“But it is if I can’t control it,” Eliot fires back.

“Eliot,” Nate begins seriously. “You need to get a handle on these…feelings. You’re still human, you can control…”

“There are some instincts you can’t train out of wild animals, Nate,” Eliot protests sharply.

Nate opens his mouth, but then his phone rings. Eliot looks stricken when Nate tells him, “Hold on.”

“Hardison,” Nate prompts the hacker as he stands up and moves away from Eliot.

“Yeah, so Sophie took care of the cops. Said those guys were harassing her and some six foot five good Samaritan took them down.” Hardison chuckles to himself before continuing. “Turns out those guys were criminals though, of the beating people up and stealing their money variety, but there’s no indication that they would have been hired to take out Eliot. I mean, you’d need someone way better than these guys to take out Eliot…”

“Thanks Hardison,” Nate says, effectively ending the conversation and shutting the phone. “Looks like you were right to be worried about those guys,” Nate says to Eliot as he turns around again.

“It doesn’t matter,” Eliot says sharply as he stands up and moves away. Nate watches as the younger man crosses his arms defensively, holding his middle.

Nate’s moving before he even realizes it. They don’t do this, don’t baby each other or comfort each other like this, but his arms itch to wrap themselves around Eliot’s waist, to pull that tense, muscular form back into the cradle of his own body.

But Eliot steps away before he can get there. Eliot heads back toward the door, but pauses an arm length’s away to look at Nate. “Don’t follow me this time. I won’t…change or anything. I’m just going to work out.”

Eliot’s asking for space, and normally Nate would give it to him willingly, trusting that Eliot knows what Eliot needs, but this time…this time he thinks of the wolf, a pack animal, and wonders if solitude is the opposite of what Eliot needs.

***

Nate’s up early the next morning after a not unexpectedly restless night. He’s sitting at the counter drinking his coffee when he sees a very interesting car chase on the news.

He’s still upstairs waiting for Paul Manlow to arrive for their meeting when Eliot bursts through the door like a mini tornado.

“You took a job?” Eliot growls. He knows it’s true, Hardison doesn’t make shit like that up, but he wants to hear it from Nate’s lips.

“Yes,” Nate says calmly.

“What the hell, man?!” Eliot raises his voice, throwing up his hands in frustration. “What part of this makes it seem like taking a job is a good idea?”

Standing up from the counter in front of the tvs, Nate replies, “He needs our help now, Eliot. Not tomorrow or whenever we figure this out.”

“Figure this out? You mean me,” Eliot sneers. “And what if I kill someone, even if it’s a bad guy?”

“You won’t,” Nate says with that certainty that so infuriates the rest of the team.

Eliot is still trying to come up with a reply when Hardison walks into the room. The young hacker may be mostly oblivious but the tension is so thick in the air he can’t help but notice the stand-off between the two older men.

“Whoa…” he draws the word out into at least five syllables as his dark eyes dart from Nate’s calm face to Eliot’s angry one. “Is this a bad time? Because you know, the guy that we’re supposed to be helping, you know that guy, he’s downstairs.”

When Eliot whips his head to growl at the younger team member, Hardison takes an unconscious step backwards, raising his hands palms out instinctively. It’s a display of submission that both the human and the wolf recognize.

“Just shut up, Hardison,” Eliot growls before he’s taking off for the door.

“Hey!” Hardison yells back, even as Nate begins to move after his lover. “I didn’t do nothing! Don’t take your problems out on me, bro!”

Nate catches up with Eliot just inside the stairwell, the hitter too angry to wait for the elevator. “Eliot,” Nate calls out as he chases after.

“What?” Eliot barks out sharply.

Making it down to the landing that Eliot is waiting on, Nate chooses his words carefully. “Eliot, do you really want to forget this con? Just leave this guy to deal with it himself?”

Eliot doesn’t respond, simply keeps his face turned away and his arms crossed. Nate knows that though Eliot values the mission, the good they do, he values the team more, and that’s part of what scares him about taking a con now.

Nate steps closer, too close for them to be anything but lovers. “I trust you, Eliot. They trust you, to keep them safe and get the con done. No matter what you’ve done in the past, and no matter what you may have to do for us in the future, we trust you. If you transformed into a donkey or a fire-breathing dragon, I still would.”

Eliot doesn’t move, but Nate watches the tense posture soften some. Finally, Nate reaches out a hand to Eliot’s rough cheek, turning Eliot’s face so that he can see vulnerable but determined blue eyes.

“Don’t tell them,” Eliot says softly.

“Course not,” Nate whispers back. “You’re still you, Eliot.”

Eliot relaxes then, feeling suddenly much older than his age. He always knew that one day he wouldn’t be able to be the hitter anymore, but to have his identity suddenly changed by something so unexpected…he’s scared, scared of losing everything he has here with these people.

Nate’s hand slides down to the back of Eliot’s neck, pulling the younger man forward into a kiss even as Nate’s taller body pushes Eliot back into the wall. The kiss is rough, Nate desperate and demanding, demanding entrance that Eliot willing gives, opening up to Nate and letting Nate’s hand support him, lead him.

Breaking apart for air, Nate can’t seem to disentangle, can’t seem to relax. He still clutches the back of Eliot’s head, keeping their faces tight together as Nate breathes out right next to Eliot’s ear.

Eventually Eliot says, “I think the client’s downstairs.”

Nate moves back only to give Eliot one last kiss, his hands sliding down Eliot’s back to squeeze Eliot’s round backside.

“Ok,” Nate says breathlessly before he straightens his coat and makes his way the rest of the way downstairs.

***

The job goes well…well, it goes as well as a lot of their jobs go. Eliot was distracted enough by the bullets that he didn’t hear the car coming, and he drowned his earbud, but the important thing was despite the threat to his team, his family, he didn’t kill anybody. They’re going to consider that a win.

Eliot was a little concerned about Parker. As much as he wanted the team, particularly Parker and Hardison, to think of him as their protector, he didn’t want them to think he was invincible, that he would always be able to rescue them, that it didn’t matter when he was hurt.

“See, it turned out fine,” Nate says, walking into his bedroom and putting down his drink on the bureau so he can strip off his coat.

Eliot’s lying on top of the covers in only his boxers and glasses, a book resting low on his belly. Chuckling and shaking his head, Eliot puts the book and glasses aside as he scoots toward the foot of the bed. “It was a big risk.”

“Nah,” Nate gives his typical response. “But I do think we should figure out more about your abilities.”

Nate sits on the bed and takes off his shoes, grinning as Eliot gets up and moves in front, putting his knees on the bed between Nate’s thighs. In a predatory crawl, Eliot keeps his body over Nate’s as Nate shimmies up the bed on his back.

“We don’t have time between jobs to figure this out,” Eliot says, seemingly unconcerned by that fact at this moment as he rearranges to straddle Nate’s groin and starts to pull up Nate’s t-shirt.

Nate looks up at the unconventionally beautiful man above him, caught up in watching the fluid movements of muscle underneath skin shadowed by the light of one lamp. He almost forgets to lift up to get the shirt off.

“Well, we’ll have to see,” Nate says lowly before rolling Eliot onto his back, Eliot’s knees still holding tight to Nate’s hips, giving Nate space to roll his hard dick against Eliot’s hole, the younger man groaning despite the layers of cloth between them.


End file.
